you let victory linger / in your mouth until you forget its taste, /remember its shape.
We could be your favorite place in the city, a still monument to ground that’s always shifting.
As you can probably imagine, the hardest part was we never knew what to do with that eighth tentacle.
I’d waited for him to come to my side of the room, had been pretending to admire, for too long, something that looked as though it had once been Apollo and Daphne but was now melting like hot wax.
Horses and earth are just different shades of each other, and we start to disappear, all of us, into the thickets of leaf and shadow.
I knew what a brown recluse spider looked like before I ever met a queer person my age.